Garden of Joy C2

Chapter 2

Earlier, Hwan had been introduced using rather unflattering descriptions — a troublemaker, a problematic prince.
And it was true that such headlines surfaced in the media almost daily. Still, it was crucial to clarify that his so-called “troublemaking” was nothing like drinking scandals, violence, or abuses of power that stirred genuine social outrage.

In truth, even taking into account the fact that he was still a high school student, his misbehavior was so trivial, so endearingly harmless, that it was almost laughable.

On one sweltering midsummer day, he had simply wanted to go out onto the field and kick a ball around with his friends.
On another, he abruptly declared after school that he wanted to follow his classmates to a PC café and try gaming.
Then, during vacation, he suddenly announced that he intended to dye his hair brown.

As for sulking over Heeseo — that was so habitual it hardly warranted further mention.

Even from this alone, the nature of his “trouble” should have been obvious. Despite the grandiose way it was spoken of, it amounted to nothing more than the modest, ordinary desires of a boy his age.

Yet tragically, as a prince, Hwan could not fulfill even a single one of those small wishes.

Buying street food freely, laughing with his mouth wide open, letting a yawn slip when bored — yes, that was the extent of it. Listing more would change nothing; it all came down to things just like that.

And still, the world grew noisy over even these trivialities.

The greatest uproar erupted, as mentioned before, when Hwan spoke of dyeing his hair. He hadn’t even said he would bleach it blond — merely the idea that a prince would dream of dyeing his hair was enough to send the Empress Dowager, the highest authority in the royal family, clutching her neck and collapsing in shock.

The news claimed the front page of every portal site the very next day.

One might think that being endlessly scrutinized over such insignificant matters would eventually make someone shrink back. But surprisingly, Hwan never flinched.

Why shouldn’t I?
It was as though he were asking exactly that.

Watching him continue to boldly express his feelings and desires without the slightest concern, headlines gradually began attaching increasingly provocative labels to his name — outcast, mutant, troublemaker, a jagged stone.

Ironically, the more such negative descriptors piled up, the more people began to adore him.

Perhaps it was precisely because he expressed his emotions so freely. He felt approachable. Though nothing about him resembled what one would expect of royalty, he was somehow impossible to hate.

A cute, troublesome youngest son.
A childish older brother from next door.
Or perhaps a vibrant, quirky idol brimming with personality.

People cherished Hwan. They delighted in him.

The royal family, however, was left utterly bewildered, unsure how to respond to such an unprecedented situation.

“How can this possibly be allowed?! Even if the authority of the royal family has fallen, this is too much!”
“Then what exactly are we supposed to do?”
“For now, we must restrain Prince Yun!”
“If that were possible, things wouldn’t have come to this in the first place!”

Thus, the palace — and the extended royal clan — fell into yet another uproar. But Hwan himself, the very center of the storm, had no interest whatsoever in such complicated discussions about the future of the royal family.

To put it bluntly, he wasn’t going to become emperor anyway.
It had nothing to do with him.

In fact, in his current state, it might have been more accurate to say that he simply had no time to care.

Hwan’s entire focus was fixed on the phone in his hand — more precisely, on the unanswered messages from Heeseo. Dissatisfied, he bit down hard on his lower lip.

“…Jung Heeseo. You really—”

Ignoring his messages altogether was crossing a line, no matter how he looked at it.

By now, the ceremony had come to an end, and the invited guests were preparing to leave the palace after their brief visit. Hwan, who had been forced to wait inside Geunjeongjeon due to security protocols, had long since reached the limit of his patience.

Jung Heeseo was truly heartless.

“Is it really that hard to send a single reply?”

His voice, tinged with grievance, was directed at his silent phone.
Not that such a complaint would magically summon a response.

Everyone had been frantically busy since morning preparing for the ceremonial return of the royal protocols. And yet, for some reason, Heeseo — who should naturally have been by his side — was nowhere to be seen. That alone had already made Hwan uneasy.

“Seonghyeon-hyung. Where’s Heeseo?”
“Huh? You’re right… why hasn’t he arrived yet?”
“…Yeah.”
“Maybe he overslept?”

Overslept? Heeseo?

It sounded ridiculous. Unlike Hwan, Heeseo wasn’t the type to laze around, so Hwan simply assumed he would arrive eventually and waited, calmly preparing himself.

But what he received instead — and only moments before the ceremony began — was not Heeseo in person, but a single, curt message.

[It looks like I won’t be able to go with you today.]

Hwan’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

[Why?]
[Why??]
[WHY?????]

Messages flooded out of him without pause, but the reply he received was maddeningly concise.

[I’m busy. Exam prep.]

“…Exam prep?”

Hwan could only let out a stunned sigh upon reading it.

Jung Heeseo. Studying.

In all the long years they’d spent together, it was an excuse he had never once heard before. Not because Heeseo was negligent about his studies — quite the opposite.

From a young age, Heeseo had been constantly labeled a genius, a prodigy, to the point where he’d even received special instruction overseen by the royal family. For someone like him, studying outside of class was practically a waste of time.

Perhaps even class itself was.

Hwan, who paid far more attention to Heeseo than to academics, could tell just by the lazy look in his eyes.

He already knows all of it.

Hwan had pestered him daily to stay together until they fell asleep — and Heeseo indulged him every time, only to still place first in the entire school without batting an eye.

He’s incredible, Hwan thought, both amazed and oddly proud on his behalf.

The problem was that after seeing that side of Heeseo his entire life, he simply couldn’t believe this sudden claim of needing to study for exams.

What scheme is he plotting this time?

Without stopping to breathe, Hwan typed out Don’t lie — but his finger hesitated just before hitting send.

“…No. No, that’s not it.”

He quickly reconsidered.

For a fleeting moment, he’d thought about demanding the truth with princely authority — asking how dare Heeseo lie so blatantly. But authority that didn’t exist wouldn’t magically appear overnight. Heeseo would probably just snort at him.

Instead, Hwan decided to indulge his own ulterior motives and try something more playful.

With a sly expression, he hastily erased his accusation and typed something else instead — a clingy, almost cute lover’s complaint.

[Studying? Or me?]

He even added a sulky teddy bear emoji, hoping to seem adorable.

Heeseo might remember this — it was a line Hwan was borrowing from a drama scene they’d happened to watch together while flipping through channels not long ago.

Granted, in the drama, the comparison hadn’t been something as mundane as studying — and more importantly, Hwan and Heeseo weren’t actually lovers.

Still, deep down, Hwan hoped Heeseo would respond like the drama’s protagonist.

What kind of question is that? Obviously you!
And then come running to him.

But reality, as always, was far less forgiving than fiction.

The reply came back swift and sharp — not playful at all, but cutting clean through him.

[Obviously studying.]
[Don’t say strange things.]

Strange things, he said.

Once again, Hwan swallowed back tears thanks to Jung Heeseo’s unchanging coldness.

You smart bastard! You know exactly what I mean!

His fingers flew furiously across the keypad.

[Wrong!]
[Wrong!!]
[WRONG!!!]
[Incorrect!]
[Disqualified!]

But irritatingly enough, the response remained infuriatingly calm.

[That’s unfortunate.]

“……”

Unfortunate?
No — he wasn’t unfortunate at all.

Hwan, thoroughly provoked, bit down on his lower lip and stubbornly denied reality.

[I’ll give you one last chance.]
[Think carefully.]
[Heeseo.]
[Heeseo?]

He sent several more messages, urging him to reconsider, but after that maddening reply, Heeseo fell completely silent.

Eventually, time ran out, and Hwan was dragged off to Geunjeongjeon for the ceremony. There was nothing left for him to do but give up.

…What can I do? The one who loves more always loses.

At least it wasn’t an event outside the palace — it was still within Gyeongbokgung. With that in mind, he decided magnanimously to let it slide just this once. Whatever Heeseo was plotting, he’d pretend to fall for it.

But even so, receiving not a single message afterward was truly unforgivable.

[Heeseo.]
[Jung Heeseo.]
[What are you doing?]
[The weather’s really nice today.]
[I wish you were here to see it with me.]
[Are you really studying?]
[You studying?]
[Yeah?]

I sent all of this.

“And you’re telling me studying crosses your mind right now?”

As if you’re actually studying at all!